


Baby Grand

by BridgetteIrish



Series: Musician!Kara [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Gen, Piano, Piano Angst, pre-supercat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgetteIrish/pseuds/BridgetteIrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara and Cat now have a strictly professional relationship.<br/>Neither of them like it much.<br/>Kara finds an outlet.<br/>Cat finds Kara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Grand

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by this song:  
> "Secondhand White Baby Grand" from Smash.  
> Listen here: https://open.spotify.com/track/6oa10rQZ69tJLu0yJ2wieW
> 
> Also inspired by the jazz club in my city where I had the rare gift of spending a few quiet, solitary minutes the other day and the baby grand piano sitting alone on the club stage.
> 
> Special thanks to sexghosts for being my editor extraordinnaire and as always, my sin squad for your support and fun.

“Kiera!”

Kara stood, gathered her notebook and favorite pen and made her way into her boss’s office.

They were three weeks into their “arrangement,” as Kara had taken to calling it in her head. The arrangement in which she and Cat no longer interacted on a personal level. The arrangement where their relationship was strictly professional. The arrangement that made Kara miss Cat Grant even when standing less than four feet from her.

“Yes, Miss Grant.” She worked hard to keep her tone even. To keep the untenable anxiety that had become her constant companion from bubbling to the surface.

“I’ll need you to prepare the Executive Club for a small gathering next Saturday night.” Kara raised her eyebrows but did not speak. The Executive Club was the luxurious, darkly furnished open room at the top of CatCo Plaza. Cat hadn’t used it in months. It was reserved for special guests and the arrogant, misogynistic board. When Cat needed something from them, or she felt they could do with a good ego stroke, she would open the Executive Club for a night, hire a small band and let the gentlemen be gentlemen for an evening.

But since the coup against Dirk Armstrong, the board had been compliant and quiet, and Cat hadn’t needed to placate any male executives in awhile.

Cat faltered a bit. “Next Sunday… is my birthday. I’m inviting a few friends just to have a small gathering at the club.”

Kara knew this, of course. She had a suitably banal birthday card tucked in her desk drawer. No poetry or jokes. Just a delicate, floral front and a simple “Wishing You a Very Happy Birthday” inside. No sentiment. No emotion. It was simply signed -- “Kara” and “Miss Grant” was printed on the front. What Kara didn’t tell anyone was that hidden in the bottom drawer of her bedroom desk was another version of the same card she knew she could never send. It was signed, “I miss your smile -- Kara,” and “Cat” was printed neatly on the front. She’d come close to choosing that one, but couldn’t, in the end. The drawer was closed and locked. Opening it, even a crack, was far too dangerous. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Cat’s continued instructions.

“I’ll be emailing you a guest list. Invitations should be simple, but classic. White and black, embossed, single card, 4x6. Find a string quartet or jazz pianist to play from eight to midnight. Thirty minute sets with ten minute breaks. If you get the pianist, the piano will need to be tuned. Call that caterer that did the Supergirl launch. Hors d'oeuvres and small desserts. Make sure the bar is stocked and hire a bartender.”

Kara waited a moment to make sure the instructions were complete. Cat looked up from her laptop.

“Yes, Miss Grant.” Kara fled the office, exchanged her notepad and pen for her tablet and phone and made her way to the elevator. She’d start with making sure the club was in pristine condition. A few minutes away from Cat’s formidable presence wouldn’t hurt either.

Cat watched her go silently, wishing for all the world she could follow.

++++++++++++++++

Kara stepped off the elevator directly into the club. It smelled of old wood and oak-aged whiskey and a hint of expensive cologne. Across the room were glass French doors leading out to a terrace that surrounded the entire top floor. She made her way around the room, inspecting tables and chairs for blemishes. As she passed the tables in the front of the room, she couldn’t resist drawing a delicate hand over the top of the mahogany finished baby grand Steinway tucked into the corner of the stage. 

She made notes to have the cleaning crew come up and checked that all the light fixtures worked. She took inventory of the full bar, noted that the crystal and glassware would need cleaned and peeked at the small wine cabinet behind the bar to ensure a few of the rare vintages were still there.

When she had run out of excuses to stay cocooned in the safe quiet of the Executive Club, Kara sighed and started back towards the elevator. As she waited for the elevator doors to open, she turned and looked back at the baby grand across the room. Ignoring the ding of the elevator’s arrival, she made her way back to the front of the room, glancing quickly around her as though to check she wasn’t being watched.

Kara hadn’t played a piano this beautiful since she’d moved out of Eliza’s house. Her foster family had an ebony Gulbransen upright that made Kara’s heart sing to play it. She had been a natural when Eliza put her and Alex in piano lessons. It had started as a way for them to bond, but they soon discovered that losing herself in the motions and concentration required for playing went a long way in calming Kara’s sensitivity to sound and light. She could close her eyes, feel the weight of the keys and hear only the music that flowed from her fingertips. It had always calmed her. Alex had given it up within months, but she sat next to Kara for hours and watched her play.

The baby grand called to her, almost like a siren, and when she sat down and lifted the cover, she took a cleansing breath in. There was a smell to a piano. The metallic tang of the strings, the heady mix of different woods making up the whole, the wool of the dampers. Kara was aware she may be the only person in the world to recognize the scent of a truly artful piano, but she savored every breath in its presence.

She laid her hands on the keys, not yet daring to give them voice. They were cool to the touch and weighted perfectly – she could tell without even applying any pressure.

She began with a basic chord, which turned into first one scale, then another, a minor, back to major, until her fingers fell into the familiar rhythm of a long forgotten song. Her fingers knew the way and her voice remembered the words.

Nobody but Alex and Eliza knew that Kara Danvers could sing. She never did it in front of anyone, but Alex used to ask her to sing to her at night as girls when memories of Jeremiah wouldn’t allow sleep to come.

**My mother bought it secondhand from a silent movie star  
It was out of tune, but still I learned to play**

+++++++++++++++

Cat pretended to work for a few minutes more. She’d become adept at that. She’d bury herself in her laptop, or layouts or mock-ups on her tablet, but after a few minutes her focus would be pulled by the tinkling laugh of Kara enjoying one of Winn’s jokes, or her authoritative voice on the phone demanding something Cat had to have, or the quietest of humming of a soft tune as her fingers flew over her keyboard with the finesse of the greatest concert pianist. It was in these moments that all pretense of work was forgotten and Cat would pretend to stare at her laptop or layouts or tablet but fix her eyes on the mirthful profile of her assistant, with whom she had insisted on keeping things “entirely professional.”

Cat slammed her laptop closed, told herself she had no idea where Kara went, and decided to inspect the Executive Club herself. There was no reason to believe Kara was already up there, she said in her mind, knowing deep down, that was the only reason for heading that direction in the first place.

She heard the music before the elevator doors opened, and when they did, the room was already full of a clear, strong voice. Cat stepped off the elevator and froze. Sitting at her prized baby grand piano, lost in her own world was Kara Danvers, pulling a sweet, sad melody from an instrument that sat silent far too often.

**The baby grand was sent away, a child all alone, to pray somebody else would realize  
That something secondhand and broken, still could make a pretty sound.**

Cat listened, suspended in time, for a few more moments, until she shifted her weight ever so slightly and her heel clicked loudly on the parquet floor. 

Kara snapped to attention. She gasped, pulled her hands from the keys and whipped her head around to see Cat, frozen in place, wishing she’d never moved at all.

Kara flushed deep red and moved to close the cover.

“Please, don’t stop.” Cat still couldn’t move, but she couldn’t bear the thought of losing the music that had filled the room.

A flash of terror crossed Kara’s face, followed quickly by determination. Cat was reaching out, and if the only way to reach back was to play for her, then Kara would play. She would sing. And then maybe, whatever had become off with Cat in the past weeks would slide back into place and she could feel in tune again. Her fingers ghosted over the keys, afraid to give them weight. 

Cat stood still, not wanting to spook Kara again, until Kara once again began to play. Her voice rang out again and Cat moved towards her, without even thinking about it.

**So now I wake up every day and see her standing there.  
Just waiting for a partner to compose  
And I wish my mother still could hear  
That sound beyond compare**

Cat was standing behind her now, watching her fingers move effortlessly across the keys, as though Kara was a part of the piano itself.

++++++++++++++++++

Kara wasn’t sure when Cat sat down next to her, but suddenly it registered in her mind that the smell of the piano was joined by another familiar scent. Oatmeal shampoo and jasmine perfume. She opened her eyes and stopped singing. Her fingers kept playing in perfect rhythm. She spared a glance at Cat, who was watching her hands, then looked away again.

A moment later, a weight fell against Kara’s side and she felt soft hair brush against her neck. Cat had dropped her head onto her shoulder. The only thought Kara had in that moment was to keep playing. Whatever magic this piano had was bringing Cat closer to her and Kara needed it to continue. She found her voice again and continued to sing.

**That Secondhand White Baby Grand that still has something beautiful to give.**

The song came to a quiet end.

Her fingers finished the final chords and Kara snatched her hands from the keys, as though they had allowed her to play them once, but her permission was about to be revoked. But before her hands could fall to their default position in her lap, Cat, head still resting on her shoulder, snatched one slender hand in both of hers and squeezed gently.

Kara tilted her head, ever so slightly so her cheek rested on soft, blonde curls.

“I miss your smile.” Kara whispered.


End file.
